Page 25 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

“Of course. I’d be happy to discuss what I know.”

As the men talked about business matters, Marina exchanged a bewildered glance with Caroline. The Duke had barely acknowledged her presence and offered only the barest nod before turning his full attention to Harold. It was as though their heated encounter outside the bookshop had never happened.

Marina wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. She’d spent the past week imagining his fury and prepared herself for another confrontation, but here he was, discussing profit margins and labor costs as though she were nothing more than a casual acquaintance.

Perhaps he’d finally decided to ignore the stories. Perhaps he’d realized?—

“Well, I shouldn’t monopolize your evening,” Leo said, bringing her thoughts to an abrupt halt. “Lady Clarkshire, always a pleasure. Lady Asquith.” His gaze slid over her briefly before he turned to leave.

As he passed, his hand brushed against hers, the touch so brief she might have imagined it—except for the folded paper now pressed against her palm.

“What a remarkably civilized encounter,” Caroline said when he had disappeared into the crowd. “I was expecting at least some veiled threats.”

“Yes,” Marina murmured, discreetly tucking the note into her reticule.

“He seemed almost indifferent,” Caroline said.

“Business always was the Duke’s preferred method of avoiding unpleasant topics,” Harold remarked, oblivious to the women’s exchange. “The cotton mill’s financial returns are actually quite extraordinary.”

As Harold launched into details of his investment, Marina’s fingers itched to open Leo’s note. She waited until Caroline was drawn into conversation with a passing acquaintance before slipping it out.

The message, written in a bold, slashing hand, was brief.

Library. Ten minutes. Do not test me.

Her pulse quickened. The library—just like in her story. Was he mocking her? Setting a trap? Or was it simply the only private location available in a house full of guests?

Marina glanced at the ornate clock across the ballroom. Nine minutes.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of mechanical conversation and excuses. When she finally slipped away from her friends, pleading a need to refresh herself, her heart was thundering so loudly she was certain the entire ballroom could hear it.

The Ellinsworths’ library was in the east wing, away from the music and laughter.

Marina hesitated outside the heavy oak door, suddenly uncertain.

Perhaps this was foolish. Maybe she should return to the ballroom and pretend she’d never read his message.

Before she could decide, the door opened, and a large hand closed around her wrist and pulled her into the room.

“You’re late.” Leo’s voice was low.

The room was illuminated by a single lamp and the moonlight streaming through the tall windows.

Marina’s heart raced with a mixture of indignation and something far more dangerous. “I came, didn’t I?” She pulled her wrist free and moved to put distance between them. “I can’t imagine what was so urgent it couldn’t wait for a proper call.”

“A proper call.” His laugh held no humor. “Would you prefer I announce to all of society that I have come to discuss your latestscribblings? The one featuring a dark-haired duke ravishing an innocent widow between Chaucer and Shakespeare?”

Marina lifted her chin. “I told you, my stories are fiction.”

“Fiction.” He moved closer, and she backed away until she met the solid weight of a bookshelf. “With remarkably accurate details about a scar on my shoulder that few people have seen.”

“You may not be as discreet as you think.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why are you doing this? You said you have no choice, yet you seem to take pleasure in humiliating me.”

“I’m not trying to humiliate you.”

“No?” He braced his arms on either side of her head, trapping her against the books. “Then what exactly are you trying to do, Marina?”